


When it rains, it pours

by runawaygypsy



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emili has an altercation with friends that leaves her feeling bad, until she runs, literally, into a sexy stranger who rocks her world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it rains, it pours

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my friend, Emili, who had a bad day and needed a good pick-me-up.  
> Hope you enjoy it, sweetie!

Emili rushed away, tears filling her eyes, sadness overflowing in her heart, her stomach feeling empty. She couldn't believe the gall, though she couldn't figure out what was more painful, the fact that it had been said, or the fact that it had been said about her. All she knew was that she needed to get away and quickly. She stomped away, letting her feet carry her where they would, down the sidewalk, away from everyone she knew that had heard. 

Unfortunately, her trajectory from the group sent her pell-mell into the path of a stranger. Paying attention only to her own tears, she was blindsided, smacking into the barrel chest of a man walking the opposite direction. The impact nearly knocked her out. “I'm sorry,” she sobbed as she sat on the cement where she painfully landed. “I'm so sorry... I wasn't watching where I was going and...” The tears began anew.

He crouched down, bending long legs into tight angles, and reached out to her, cupping her shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly, “It's alright. You didn't hurt me in the least.” His voice was smooth, low, and he had a British accent.

“It's not you,” Emili sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She was staring at the ground, still stunned. “I've just had an awful day and... well, I'm feeling terrible.” When she finally flicked her eyes to him, she was at a loss for words. The man was gorgeous. He had close-cropped, slightly ginger hair, the hint of stubble along a strong, angular jaw, chiseled cheekbones and bright blue gray eyes that reflected so much warmth, that she couldn't look away.

“My name's Tom,” he smiled as he stood up and held out a hand to help her up. “And I can't stand seeing a pretty girl in tears.”

“Emili,” she answered, taking his hand and using him as ballast to get to her feet. Instinctively, she brushed off her backside, sure that there was dust from the sidewalk swathed across the black skirt she wore. “Thanks.”

“Would you like to take a walk, maybe get some sweets, and you can tell me about it?” he asked. “Sometimes it helps to talk, even to a stranger.”

Normally, that would have been the moment that Emili would have bolted. She was used to the slimy guys that hit on her using cheesy pick-up lines, assuming because she had curves that she'd be easy, but Tom's eyes held so much genuine sincerity that she immediately trusted him. Also, she reasoned, she didn't normally attract that kind of attention in normal street clothes, today, the black skirt paired with a Ramones shirt and some mid-calf black boots. Not exactly flirty clothing. She gave him a sad smile, instead. “That sounds nice.”

She followed him down the street and over a couple blocks to an ice cream parlour that was decorated like a vintage 50s soda shoppe. “I've become addicted to this place since I arrived,” Tom admitted as he held the door open for her. “If I don't get this sweet tooth under control, I'll be double my size by the time I leave,” he joked.

He guided her to a table in the corner, asking, “What would you like?”

Emili surveyed the chalkboard menu on the wall behind the counter. “I'll have a hot fudge sundae,” she answered. “Please.”

With a nod, Tom was off to the counter, ordering their treats. She watched him with great interest. He was tall, at least half a foot taller than she, lithe, thin enough that even the tight jeans he wore were baggy around his legs, but muscled enough that she could see the definition of his back muscles through the thin gray t-shirt he wore. She licked her lips as she watched him, drawing her tongue in just in time for him to turn around. He held two hot fudge sundaes and made his way back to the table, setting them down in front of her with a grin. “It sounded delicious when you said it,” he explained as he sat in the chair opposite of her. 

“So, Tom,” she said as they ate, “What's your story?” Emili wanted to ask first, not only because she was curious about what a man like this was doing in her town, much less eating sundaes with her, but because she didn't relish the idea of talking about herself. 

He pursed his lips and thought for a moment, rolling his eyes up like he was searching inside his head somewhere for the right words to say. “Well,” he finally said, “As you know, I'm visiting. One of my close friends is getting married and wanted the moral support, so, here I am.”

“How long are you here?” she asked. “Just for the wedding?”

He scowled and shook his head. “Goodness, no,” he replied. “I wouldn't come all this way just for a couple days. I'm house sitting while he's on his honeymoon. I'll be here at least a month.”

Emili was about to ask what he did for a living when he asked, “So, back there, what had you so emotional?”

She sighed, feeling it well up inside her, but this time, taking the form of slight nausea. “It was nothing,” she tried to dismiss.

“Pshaw, it obviously wasn't nothing or you wouldn't have been crying,” he said as he reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. “You can tell me. I won't judge.”

Emili launched into a tear-ridden diatribe on the nature of the situation, finishing with, “And I know it was specifically directed at me and I feel even more horrible than I did about myself before.”

Of course, he was lying about passing judgment. Drawing his eyebrows in, Tom took a deep breath. “That is the worst treatment of anyone I've heard in a long time. And you consider these people friends?” When she nodded sadly, he continued. “Emili, you are beautiful and you have a wonderful, warm, caring personality.”

“How would you know?” she snorted. “We just met.”

He looked hurt for a moment, but he continued. “I know it because, from the moment you crashed into me, I have been wildly attracted to you.”

She was dumbstruck. As she gazed at him, his eyes searched hers. “What do you see when you look at me?” she finally asked quietly.

Tom smiled. “I see a woman with gorgeous curves, honey-colored eyes that I could lose myself in, that doesn't give a fuck what society thinks because you've got tattoos and wear a punk shirt.,” he said. “Is that accurate?”

Emili nodded. “Give or take the beautiful part.”

“None of that, now,” he scolded. “If you weren't beautiful, would I be asking you out to dinner tonight?”

“You haven't yet,” she replied.

With a soft chuckle, he asked, “Well, would you?”

“You bought ice cream,” she answered. “How about I make you dinner? If you don't mind coming over to some strange woman's apartment...”

“I'd love to.”

They'd parted at the entrance to the ice cream parlour, Emili giving Tom a piece of paper from her bag with her address and phone number scrawled across it, Tom giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek as he embraced her, as well as his phone number, written in blue sharpie on the back of her hand.

Emili barely had enough time to get what she needed for dinner from the market and get the food started before she looked at the clock and realized she needed to get ready herself. She left the noodles on to boil and jumped into a quick shower, taking just enough time to wash the day away before she was furiously pulling clothing out of her closet and settling on a pin-up style dress that was black with red roses on it. It was her favorite because, with her raven hair, it made her pale skin and delicate features that much more prominent. She slipped on a pair of red heels before running back into the kitchen to stir the sauce and drain the noodles. Once the food was settled, she sprinted back into the bathroom and put on some makeup and twisted her hair into a chignon, securing into place with several hair pins. 

There was a knock on the door just as she finished spritzing herself with her favorite body spray. “I'll be there in a sec!” she yelled, hoping he heard her. 

When Emili opened the door, she was nearly knocked breathless again. Tom stood there in a suit, dark gray that made his eyes a deeper gray, white button-down shirt, black tie. “I was hoping I wasn't too dressed up,” he chuckled as he stepped in. “I daresay, I'm not. You look...” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Ravishing.”

It was the tone he said it in, the way he said it that made Emili weak in the knees. “Thanks,” she replied, her voice shaking. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable. Dinner is almost done.” She closed the door and leaned on it for a moment, drawing in a long breath, trying to collect herself. 

When she turned around, Tom was standing in front of her bookshelf, scrutinizing the spines. “You have some wonderful old books here,” he commented. “Some I think I've never seen, myself.”

“Well,” she chuckled nervously, “I like to collect them. I've read nearly all of them by now.” She went to his side. “I've got some music going, if you'd like to pick a song or two, the iPod is over there.” She pointed to a small, portable iPod dock sitting on the coffee table. “I've got to finish getting this food ready.” 

Emili left Tom for the sanctuary the kitchen provided, feeling her self getting lost with him already, but, sadly, knowing he was only temporary. She chopped the salad, scooped the pasta into one serving bowl and the sauce into another, placing them on the table as she glanced over at Tom concentrating on the iPod screen. By the time she had gone back into the kitchen to retrieve the wine and bottle of vinaigrette for the salad, he had found Beethoven and was happily listening to it and humming along while he watched the city outside her picture window. “Do you mind if I open your window a bit?” he asked. “It's begun to rain a bit and I love the sound, especially mixed with this music.”

“Have at it,” she said, setting the bottles down on the table. “Dinner is served.”

They ate in virtual silence, the only noises being the steady rain outside as it pummeled the city and the gentle cadences of classical music that wafted throughout the apartment. “This is absolutely delicious,” Tom complemented between mouthfuls. “You're a wonderful cook.”

“Thank you,” Emili replied, feeling suddenly awkward. She wasn't sure what she should say, afraid that if she started talking, she would begin nervously telling him everything and it would drive him away. So, she stayed silent, except to offer him another glass of wine and more food when his plate was empty.

Tom leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly. “Thank you, but I believe I've eaten my fill,” he smiled. 

Emili stood up and began clearing the table after she was done eating, stacking the plates on top of each other, precariously balancing them in top of the mostly-empty bowls and the salad dressing. Tom was quick to help, reaching around her, circling her with his arms as he helped keep the stack together. They rinsed off the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. Just as it was full and Emili was ready to start running it, there was a flash and the power went out, plunging them into darkness. 

For a moment, they stayed, frozen. “I've got a lighter over the stove,” Emily whispered, though she wasn't sure why. “There's candles everywhere already.” She moved past Tom, not sure exactly how close she was getting to him until she was pressed against him, reaching under his arm to grab the lighter from the shelf on the wall. “I keep this here just in case my pilot light goes out,” she explained as she flicked the flame on.

She scooted quickly past him back into the living room and, using the meager flame from the lighter to see where the candles were, lit each and every one, until the apartment was filled with a warm, yellow glow. As she lit the final one, she flicked off the lighter and set it down on the coffee table. “Good thing the iPod dock runs off batteries,” she commented. “We still have music!” She scrolled through the menu and pulled up a playlist of her favorite soft songs.

“I love this song,” Tom grinned as Emili stood up and the sounds of Bon Iver's “For Emma” began to play. “Would you care to dance?”

“Sure,” Emili responded. “This is one of my favorites.” She joined him in the center of the living room, one hand on the small of his back, the other holding his hand.

Tom wrapped his free hand around her and pulled her close, leaning down cheek to cheek as he rocked her to the music. He inhaled her scent and hummed, “You smell wonderful.”

It was a heady brew. The music, the closeness, his voice, the wine, all of it combined in a warmth that grew in her center and emanated out to every extremity. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh, opening them only when the song ended, the next began, and Tom stopped moving. He tipped her head up towards his and brushed his lips across hers. “Is this alright?” he asked. Emili nodded and he kissed her again, this time more fervently, his lips hungrily moving across her mouth. She let out a soft moan, parting her lips, inviting him in and another when he accepted, pushing his tongue inside, letting it dance gingerly over her lips and against her own.

Emili's heart sped up and she swore she could hear it in her ears as her blood rushed. His kiss made her feel alive and electric, the warmth from their dance concentrating in her core as a need. She felt him pull her closer to him and pressed herself against his chest. “Tom,” she said breathlessly as he released her. “This is perfect.”

“So are you,” he smiled. His eyes were heavily lidded as he pulled her into him again. This time, while he kissed her, his arms encircled her, his hands grasping her ass and squeezing, making her yelp for just a moment before she was consumed by the kiss. She could feel his excitement against her hip and pressed herself against him even more.

As things began to get even more fevered, she whispered, “I don't normally do this on the first date.”

“Neither do I,” he mumbled as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of her dress.

Emili did nothing to stop him, in fact, she did quite the opposite, her hands running along his hips before sliding to the front and undoing the fasteners on his slacks. She let out a whimper as his kisses moved along her neck, then her collarbone, then settled on the valley between her breasts as her dress fell from her shoulders. She put her arms down to her sides and let it fall the rest of the way, pooling at her feet and revealing her black lace panties. 

As she stood there, nearly naked and feeling entirely exposed, Tom leaned back. His eyes swept over her appreciatively. “You, my Darling, are gorgeous,” he purred. “Absolutely, positively gorgeous,” he repeated as he gathered her in his arms again. 

She had been feeling nervous and self-conscious, but now she felt loved and wanted. With a finality in her decision, she managed to pull his suit pants down over his hips, revealing the truth of nothing under them. “I want you,” she said gruffly in his ear before nipping it lightly with her teeth.

Tom responded in kind, his voice low, thick with lust. “I want you, too.” He backed her up, lying her gently back against the sofa, kneeling between her legs, winking as he looked at her spread wide for him. “I hope you're not too attached to those knickers,” he growled as he looped his fingers on either side and pulled, ripping them off of her. 

She gasped as he leaned into her, his fingers crawling up her inner thigh, then delving into her, exploring her, crooking to meet with her most secret tender spots. It was simultaneously too much, driving her into a nearly immediate frenzy, and not enough, her desire to be filled by him not sated by the mere dexterity of his hands. He waited until she was writing against his hand, kissing her everywhere except her lips, before pulling himself from her, licking the slick sheen of her from his fingers. “You taste divine,” he said, leaning closer to her. 

With the removal of those exemplary appendages, she felt empty. Reaching around his chest, she pulled him into her, feeling for a moment the tip of his manhood hovering at her entrance before he plunged into her. That was the feeling she wanted. The sensation of being filled and stretched completely, enough so that she thought she might burst in half, knowing she wouldn't as she felt herself adjust to his girth. “You have quite the, um, sword there,” she managed to say before he pulled himself out most of the way, then thrusting into her with his entirety. He continued, his kissed still peppering her lips and her neck as he moved, her hands grasping his hips, setting him to a rhythm, her legs crooking around him, until she couldn't stand the pressure that built inside her any longer. The ball of heat had managed to grow, to compress itself so fully at the same time, that she felt a black hole might open up and consume the both of them, but it was to the contrary. It shot white heat from her., blinding her, making the soles of her feet burn as she was wracked with paroxysms of absolute pleasure, her hips rising on their own to meet his, her walls closing around him and pulsating with each gasp, each cry, each scream. 

He worked at a furious pace, his concentration on her and her alone, but her heat and her release pulled him with her until he as well seeked his own, rocking into her with violent finality, such innate need to push beyond himself that she came again, writhing and moaning beneath him as he felt his hot release spill inside her with a final spasm. 

As their movements subsided, he kissed her softly again, his gray blue eyes fixed on her honey eyes. They needed no words as they stayed there. There were none they could say, anyway.


End file.
